One Night to Fall
by Sci-fi Christian
Summary: After being called to fight for his country during World War II, finding love was preposterous for Sherlock Holmes. Until the night he met a stunning woman in a green dress, and love blossoms between them. Will they survive? Will their love give them the strength to overcome the war that rages not only in Europe but in their hearts? Sherlolly/WWII.
1. Across the Room

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"Come now, brother, you must keep up appearances."

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he fastened the final button on his uniform. "The only reason I agreed to this is because of mother and you know it, Mycroft."

Mycroft sighed leaned on his cane, while his free hand slid in his pocket. "Yes, I know." He shook his head in a way that showed disgust. "Mother has that way about her."

Sherlock lowered his arms and tilted his head to the side. "The end of the week I ship out, and mother wants to have a party."

"Not just any party, brother mine, but a memory. You know how mother becomes when emotions run away with her."

"Yes, yes," Sherlock remarked with an aggravated tone.

"Now, do not be late. Mother would have both of our heads."

Sherlock nodded curtly, listening to his brother huff before leaving the room. He sagged and his arms dropped to his side. "One more night. All I have is one more night." His eyes in the mirror faded to sadness, something he knew he had to hide.

It was his duty. Duty to his country. To his family. To his brother.

"Right, let the festivities begin."

**~XXX~**

He loathed parties. Absolutely loathed them.

In actuality, he despised society. The only purpose he could possibly acquiesce to this request was for his beloved mother. A woman whom he respected above all others.

He would do almost anything for her. Even standing in a large hall, wearing his service uniform, shaking hands with dignitaries, smiling stiffly, and hoping he could leave soon.

Mother knew how much he hated socializing, but the war was in full swing and he had been called into action. Actually, he felt it was his duty after the Battle of Britain sent waves of tension through the people not to mention the reports hinted by his brother of an airstrike in London by the Luftwaffe. He understood duty and the response to the coming strikes forced him to sign.

His duty was important to England's safety, so here he stood. In a small dining area with a dozen or so people, his mother invited, plastering a smile on his face, trying to appear interested when a woman he had known for years talked about her missing cat. Tedious was hardly the word he would use for this moment.

His patience was wearing thin when he saw her: the vision in a deep green dress, flared at the hip, draped to the mid-calf. His eyes focused on her figure, standing next to a woman a few years older. Mary, he believed was her name. She didn't matter.

His back stiffened, studying her from across the room. Her mouse lips were charming and somehow sensual. She had a cute button nose which may have been too small, but for her rounded features, it was perfect.

Her brown hair was curled and styled to fit the times and though he strained to see, he could not make out the color of her eyes. Brown? Hazel? He wasn't sure from this distance.

He held his breath and his body became even more rigid when her eyes moved away from her friend and shifted to his.

Time stood still around him and the people around them disappeared. All he could see was her. This woman in a green dress was probably not that attractive to others, but Sherlock's heart picked up the pace as he studied her.

Brown. Her eyes were brown. Or seemed to be.

Gathering his nerve and pushing his legs to take steps forward, he made his way through the crowd to stand before her.

Her cheeks turned a beautiful shade of pink and her eyes jumped as if she wanted to glance down, but found she could not do so.

Their proximity was only separated by a hair's breadth and his mouth opened to speak, but his voice stopped midway up his throat.

How could a man of his genius caliber be struck speechless by a seemingly plain woman? Simple, she wasn't simple or plain.

"Sherlock, do not stand there as a dog caught in the act."

He barely heard Mary's words. His eyes focused on the warm brown eyes before him.

Mary rolled her eyes and smiled. "Sherlock Holmes, this is my friend Molly Hooper. Molly, this is Sherlock."

Molly dipped her head forward and smiled with a deeper blush. How could anyone become even more attractive with a blush? He wondered with a tight face.

"It's a pleasure, Mr. Holmes."

He hummed and reached for her hand, bringing it to his lips. "Likewise, Molly Hooper."

She gasped and swallowed hard when his lips touched her skin. He smiled, secretly, his lips burning at the contact.

What an unusual reaction.

"Well, if you two will excuse me, I do believe I see John."

Sherlock straightened, holding onto Molly's hand, barely seeing nor hearing Mary's explanation. "Ms. Hooper, would you care to take a turn in the gardens in the back? I fear I need a breath of air."

Molly smiled, shyly and nodded. "I would love to, Mr. Holmes."

"Excellent, shall we?" Sherlock offered his arm in a gallant attempt and contained a shiver of pleasure at the contact of her hand threading through to rest on his forearm.

Maneuvering through the crowd, he led her to the back gardens, which were lit by carefully placed lamps. English roses lined the pathway and the scent of the late blooms filled the air around them.

"Oh, how beautiful."

Sherlock's head bowed forward as he escorted her to the small sitting area in the center of the garden. "Mother's doing," he explained, pointily. "She loves working out here."

"I don't blame her. I would love to garden, but I'm afraid I do not have the aptitude for such an endeavor."

He hummed and helped her sit in one of the iron chairs, while he remained standing. "You do not appear as if you do much work outdoors."

Molly's face softened as she nodded. "How do I appear?"

He wanted to hold back his observations, but the urge to deduce was strong, especially with her. His eyes narrowed, observing her hopeful expression at receiving his answer. His hands clasped behind his back and focused on her features.

"You enjoy working with your hands, by the way, you rub them subconsciously. I suspect you have an occupation where your hands are used quite a bit. By your features, I surmise you have a kind heart, but there is a sadness in your eyes. Your work saddens you, probably because of what surrounds you at times. You are intelligent, yet have an empathic soul." His voice lowered and he turned his head to look away from her. "Forgive me, I…"

She rose from her seat and held up her hand. "No, there is nothing to forgive." She stepped closer, her eyes moving to catch his. "You are correct in your observations. I do work with my hands. I am a doctor, well, almost a doctor. I will be by next year. At times, my work does sadden me because I see so much death and pain. Perhaps I do care too much."

He sighed and tried to smile, but found his features frozen as he gazed into her eyes. "Mother would say caring is not a sin."

"What would you say, Mr. Holmes?"

He shrugged, not understanding the feelings running through him. They were different than any he ever felt before in his life. He was attached to this woman, a part of him. Raising his right hand, he cupped her cheek with his thumb touching the side of her nose, tracing it down her cheek. Soft, just as he guessed.

Her chest was rising and falling faster at his touch and her hands came to rest on his chest. Her eyes dilated as they focused on his and he smiled at the reaction.

"I believe I'm beginning to see she is correct." His voice lowered into a deep baritone that sent shivers down her body and her heart quickened in her chest. His mouth opened as his head lowered, only pausing, briefly, to see if she would protest his actions.

A smile touched her lips as her head tilted up to accept what he was offering. His lips fitted to hers with perfection, like the other half of a puzzle. It was electric. Shocking. That was the word. Her arms encircled his neck and one of his own wrapped around her waist while the other remained with his hand on her face.

Her body was drawn to his as the kiss deepened in the small lighted gazebo of the garden. Music from the parlor drifted to their ears as their bodies began to sway even while their lips remained attached.

She tasted so sweet. Her lips were tender and reminded him of a spring day. He wanted more. Needed more.

She sighed, opening her mouth just his mouth ground into hers. Passionate. A perfect description of him. She thought, holding on as the music acted as an enhancer to the magical moment. Mary had informed her of Sherlock's deductive mind, but she did not tell her how passionate he was or that her heart would fall so quickly.

Their lips separated with grace and tender action that left her breathless. Her eyes remained closed for only a fraction before they opened to find him watching her.

She was beautiful. Her lashes had framed the soft skin of her cheeks and when her eyes opened, they fluttered like the wings of a butterfly. How could anyone not find her attractive?

Strange thinking for a man who never thought of women in any context but acquaintances. His hand remained on her face, tracing the softness of her face. His breath, and hers, were haggard from the passion.

It was as if they were one soul, one person, reacting the same way.

"Perhaps, I should have asked permission, Ms. Hooper."

She smiled, a tender, loving smile and shook her head. "Anyone else might have, but you do not need my permission, Mr. Holmes."

"No," he asked with a quirk of his brows, a smile playing on his lips.

Her fingers played at the base of his hairline. Her smile warmed his heart and soul. He couldn't explain it. He really couldn't. How could this happen? It was so sudden. So…right.

Her hands slid down over his shoulders, an adorable shyness appeared across her features. "It seems strange."

He hummed, watching her, memorizing every flutter in her eyes, every contour of her face. "How strange does it seem?"

Her eyes held his. She noticed the color of his eyes was not just one but perhaps three. Blue. Green. Gold. Beautiful. "I have never felt like this before, I feel as if…oh, this sounds ridiculous, doesn't it?"

"No, it doesn't because I feel the same."

"And we have only just met."

"Have we?"

She laughed in a tender fashion and he smiled, watching, enraptured. Oh, how lovely she looked when she laughed. She was a fairy in green, matching the rolling green hills he had seen in the countryside. She was breathtaking, ravishing.

She was…everything.

Music continued to play and drift outside, sending them swaying to the rhythm. "Molly Hooper, would you do me the honor of this dance?"

Her brown eyes sparkled like dark diamonds as she nodded allowing his hands to pull her closer and maintain position.

It was not a fancy waltz. One he knew and practiced at his mother's behest. It was simply swaying in a circle underneath the lights of the garden.

As they swayed and held each other close, they never spoke a word. There was no need. This was their night. Their dance.

Her head rested on his chest and she listened to his heart pound in her ear. A melodic sound. One she would forever remember. The beats were timed and counted by instinct and she knew she would forever know his heart by the count.

The music ended with a soft note and Sherlock bent his knees and back, dipping her in a subtle fashion.

She giggled before she straightened and their eyes locked once again. "I don't think I shall ever forget this night."

"Neither will I," he whispered, longingly. He led her back to the iron chairs and assisted her as she sat. He positioned himself across from her and reached across the table to grasp her hands. Fearing this would be a dream and he would awaken if he ever released her hands.

"When are you scheduled to leave?"

The question he dreaded answering. He inhaled deeply, wishing he never had to answer, but he couldn't lie to her. He never could. "I leave by this week's end."

She nodded, absorbing the information. "A shame we never met sooner," she replied, choking on the last word.

His hands caressed hers, squeezing lightly as he watched her. "We have tonight and the rest of the days, if you will permit it."

She squeezed his hands in return and the watery smile on her face was his answer.

He tilted his head to the side before raising her hands in his and brushed his lips over her knuckles.

Hands that were studying in medicine were still soft and ladylike. He could not imagine ever forgetting the feel of them.

Her breath caught when his lips touched her skin. She watched as he seemed to trace each knuckle with his fingers, tracing her in his memory. "Sherlock," she breathed with longing.

"I want to remember this night, Molly Hooper."

She nodded, adoring his features in the small lights, complete with a touch of moonlight. "So do I, Sherlock."

"Then, if it takes all night, I would like to know more about you."

"And I you," she returned with a blush on her cheeks.

She bowed her head, feeling his eyes studying her in the silence. For the moment, it was just the two of them and for that perfect moment, there was no war. No draft. No train scheduled to depart with the man she was falling in love with. For just this night and perhaps the following nights before he left, it would be just them.

For love could happen in an instant, and for Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper, it was happening in one night.

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**Please be kind!**

**I have had this story in my mind for a few months, and have been working on it for just as long. It will not be very long as I have mapped it out and figured it will be no more than 10 chapters and no less than 5.**

**I hope you enjoyed this! Also, even though I do research on this time period, I may goof, so if you have any suggestions, let me know.**

**Next Chapter: A Walk in the Sun**

**Until Next Time...**


	2. A Walk in the Sun

**THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR CONTINUED SUPPORT! IT MEANS SO MUCH!**

**Please remember to review at the end! :)**

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One last brush stroke through her hair and she smiled at her reflection. Last night was magical. Absolutely magical. There were no other words to describe last night.

She giggled with the memory. The man of her dreams came alive last night. She couldn't believe it. She was completely head over heels in love with Sherlock Holmes.

She twirled around her room, allowing the sundress to flare out and wrap around her legs when she stopped. Last night had been a dream come true. He was a gentleman. A perfect gentleman.

She blushed at the memory of him insisting on walking her home after the party. He even lingered at the doorway, giving her a gentle kiss on the lips.

Two kisses in one night from a man she just met. It should be crazy to feel this warm and carefree about someone she only knew for a night, but it wasn't. He felt a part of her. The other half of her soul. She knew it the moment their eyes connected.

Everything about him was exactly the way she imagined him to be and more. Mary warned her before they met about Sherlock's deduction mind. The way he was blunt and never coated the truth, but in all honesty, Molly looked forward to meeting him. She enjoyed his bluntness. His deductions. His passion.

His honesty was the draw. Everyone she knew always seemed to hide the truth, but never Sherlock. He did not appear the type of man who would keep the truth from her.

A ring from the front door made her dance in the hall as she twirled to grasp the handle and open it. She laughed with her hand flying over her mouth, blushing at the sight of Sherlock Holmes on the other side, wearing civilian clothes, not his uniform.

"Sherlock, good morning," she greeted, breathlessly.

He smiled, bowing his head. "Good morning, Molly," he returned.

She motioned inside. "Would you like to come in?"

He shook his head. "No, I was hoping you would like to take a stroll with me through the park this fine morning."

She nodded, fervently, grasping her small handbag and small coat. After closing and locking the door, she blushed once again when he assisted with her coat and his hands lingered on her shoulders for only a brief moment.

"I barely slept last night," he admitted as they entered the park.

"Neither did I," she concurred, leaning slightly towards him. "And yet this morning I felt rested and joyful."

He stopped and faced her. "So, did I," he whispered, holding her eyes until she blushed. "I was afraid if I slept, I would find it all a dream."

She raised her hand and caressed his face. "I still cannot believe it," she replied, breathlessly.

He sighed, closing his eyes, leaning into her hand. "Neither can I."

"Amid the chaos, we find this joy," she stated.

"Only to have it be taken away," he revealed, sadness creeping into his eyes.

Her head shook, as she stepped closer to him. "No," she urged, letting her hand rest on his chest. "No, it will not be taken away. We will hold onto it for as long as we can."

His hands rested on her upper arms, caressing her with the slightest touch. "You are an optimist, Molly Hooper."

She laughed, bobbing her head up and down. "Yes, I am, because I have to believe you will come back."

His heart sang with her words. Words he normally would not accept, but from her, he relished them. "I can't promise I will, but I promise I will try."

"That's all I ask, Sherlock."

He bent his head, touching her forehead with his. "Will you wait for me?"

"Oh, Sherlock," she breathed, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You don't have to ask."

He smiled, pulling her closer. She fit perfectly against him like she was made just for him. How could he ever leave her? She was perfect. Her analytical mind matched his. Her beauty, simple though it seemed, touched him in ways he never imagined. Her courage. Her tenderness.

His nose brushed over hers. How tender he seemed with her. He never imagined feeling this way about anyone. Emotions were never on his list. Complicated emotions. Weakness. But now, with her, he felt stronger than ever.

Now, there was something to fight for and she was standing in his arms.

"You promised me a stroll through the park."

He chuckled, moving his forehead against hers. "So, I did."

"Tell me, what drew you into working with the police?" she asked, threading her arm through his.

He quirked a brow and she blushed at his expression. "Mary informed me of your activities before we met."

"She warned you," he deduced and nodded when she blushed even more. "She was right to do so."

"I don't believe so."

He paused and saw the honesty in her eyes. No ridicule nor aversion appeared in her brown eyes. Only understanding and fascination, just like last night. "I have always been fascinated with solving the unsolvable," he began, as they continued. "The uncertainty of the case the more challenging."

"You prefer the challenge?"

"I do," he answered with a smirk. "Otherwise, it is too boring and I lose interest."

"I can understand that. I prefer to work with the tough cases, but being a woman, I am given more tender cases. Children mostly or other women."

"That is not fair."

She scoffed, shaking her head. "I am a woman in a time when women usually are nurses and don't hold any other position in life." Her eyes shifted away. "It's an accomplishment for me to even become a doctor."

"Yes, it is," Sherlock agreed, placing his other hand on top of hers. "But still, you thrive with each challenge."

"This was a challenge, Sherlock," she responded, stopping mid-step. "It's a challenge every single day to walk into the hospital and be accepted by the men around me. To let them know that I am smart enough to be a doctor."

He smiled, raising his hand to caress her cheek. "We are the same."

Her face reddened and a shy expression flashed across her face. She appeared so innocent in her words. So thoughtful. So wise.

They walked onward, taking in the beauty of the day. The cool breeze blowing around them. The smell of autumn in the air. But most of all, they relished the companionship. The calming nature one brought to the other.

Molly smiled as her head laid on Sherlock's shoulder. She never imagined something like this to happen to her. Her profession scared most suitors away, but not Sherlock. He seemed intrigued and understanding. She wanted this day to never end, much like last night.

If the day never ended, she would never have to say goodbye. Goodbye…

Oh, what a sad word. She hated the sound of it. The very thought of it. Goodbye was not a word in her vocabulary.

They stopped at a small bench and settled down. His arm surrounded her, bringing her closer to his side, where she settled contently.

"This day is just perfect."

"I never believed in a perfect day," Sherlock revealed.

She sighed, letting her head fall on his shoulder once more. "No?"

"No," he answered, tightening his hold. "But this moment is perfect."

She smiled, threading her fingers through his free hand. "It would seem."

"Molly," he began, rubbing his thumb over her hand. His words hung in the air. Words he wanted to say, but he couldn't.

Molly, sensing his distress, moved to catch his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere."

His eyes closed, the pain of never seeing her again reverberated through his chest.

"You promised you would try, and I'm going to hold you to that promise."

His eyes, shifting a depressing blue, held hers. "In my mind, I have what I call a mind palace, where the most important memories and knowledge is stored," he began, observing her interested gaze. "At this moment, you are taking up almost half of my palace. The memories of last night and today are overwhelming me."

"Is that bad?"

"No, on the contrary, it's the only thing keeping me sane," he confessed, watching her. "Before I met you, I was going through the motions. Believing emotions were something I did not want, but then I saw you with that green dress. The dress made you appear like a fairy to me. And then, suddenly, something I thought would never happen, happened."

Molly's breath stalled in her chest. Her chest constricted and her heart pounded in her ears.

Her eyes dilated only a fraction and her chest heaved with each second, he waited to continue. "You, Molly Hooper, are more important to me than any person I have ever met. Strange as it may seem, after only knowing you for a night and a day, I sense I've known you longer, and I don't want to forget a single aspect of you," he paused, unthreading his fingers from hers and traced her face. "I want to remember the silky feel of your skin. Your button nose. Your perfect mouth. Your brown eyes, which puts me in a trance. Your laugh. Everything about you is locked into my mind and I promise it is that knowledge, those memories, which will bring me back to you unless something happens."

She raised her hand and cupped his sharp cheek. "Then I shall pray that you will come back to me because no matter what my belief and hope are, only God can guarantee your safety."

He smiled, leaning forward to capture her lips with his. Opening his mouth on hers, he deepened the kiss, not caring of the location, only caring how much he wanted to show her the strength of his feelings.

Tilting her head to the side, the kiss inflamed as their tongues mated inside their mouths. Molly pressed closer to him, until his lips drew back, lingering only to place another gentle kiss on her nose and cheeks.

In the gentle air of the park, they found contentment once again.

Both hoping that the war would not tear them apart.

**~XXX~**

"Who is she, dear?"

Sherlock froze as he entered the home, and bowed his head. "Mother?"

M.L. Holmes smiled, clasping her hands in front of her as she stared at her youngest son. "The young woman I saw you dancing with at the party last night, and I'm assuming the one you went to see this morning."

Sherlock swallowed, glancing away. He tried to move passed his mother, but she was quick and her eyes, similar to his, froze him on the spot. He shifted on his feet. "Her name is Molly Hooper. She is training to be a doctor."

"A woman doctor," Mrs. Holmes remarked, impressed. "No wonder you are fascinated with her."

It was more than that, he thought. He glanced away.

"You care for her, don't you? It's not fascination."

He shook his head only a fraction, to his mother's joy.

"Oh, my dear, I'm so pleased. I only saw her a few moments, and I could tell she was a beauty."

"She's more than that," he whispered, turning to enter the drawing-room. "She's understanding."

"I see," his mother responded with a smile. "Does she know you are leaving at the end of the week?"

"Yes."

"You're going to see her tonight, are you not?"

"Yes," he answered, curtly, knowing he could hide nothing from his mother.

She nodded, placing her hand on his arm. "I would like to meet her. Perhaps, you should invite her to tea with the family. Maybe Wednesday?"

Sherlock swallowed, lowering his eyes. Wednesday was only two days away, and he was leaving on Friday. He understood the significance of Molly meeting his mother, but in his heart, he knew it was right.

For in his life, there was no one better suited to him than Molly Hooper.

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**Please be kind!**

**I'm running on fumes right now, but I've been working on this chapter all day, trying to get it the way that would match the first chapter, if that makes sense. LOL.**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm working on getting the next chapter up later this weekend. This may end up being more than 5 chapters, but we'll see. It still won't be too long.**

**Next Chapter: Saying Goodbye**

**Until Next Time...**


	3. Saying Goodbye

**THANK YOU ALL WHO SUPPORT THIS STORY! IT MEANS SO MUCH!**

**Please remember to review at the end! :)**

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His mother loved Molly. Not that he doubted she would. Molly was a lovable person. So full of light and love. It was hard to miss.

He watched with a semi-stiff back, clutching Molly's hand under the table as his mother inquired about Molly's studies. His glances towards his brother and father were discreet, but catching Mycroft's he saw acceptance.

His back relaxed. His grip on her hand loosened and quick contact with her eyes told him everything. She enjoyed his family.

"So, have you discussed the future?"

His mother's question jerked their attention back to the family. Sherlock's jaw clenched and his hold tightened once again.

Molly swallowed with a blush touching her cheeks. "No ma'am, we have not. We're just living day-to-day."

Mrs. Holmes nodded, appearing to accept the answer. "Well, I imagine Sherlock wishes not to explore that yet."

"Mother," Sherlock ground out, lifting his cup of tea to his lips.

Molly squeezed his hand. "It's alright, Sherlock," she whispered, returning her attention to Mrs. Holmes. "We have discussed when he returns from service, but as of right now, we're just happy being together."

Sherlock smirked at the response and held Molly's eyes for a moment, which stopped the time around them. He bowed his head and pushed away from the table. "If you will excuse us, I would like to show Molly the gardens in the daylight," he remarked, helping Molly stand.

Mycroft and Mr. Holmes stood in respect and bowed their heads at the comment.

Sherlock placed his hand against the base of her back, escorting her out of the room.

"Well, she is a very polite young woman, and obviously taken with Sherlock," Mrs. Holmes remarked, casually.

Mycroft and his father exchanged looks which spoke volumes.

"Mother, you are not playing with Sherlock and Molly's relationship, are you?" Mycroft asked, quirking his brow.

"Now, Myc, why would I do that?"

The men groaned, leaving the woman at the end of the table with dreams of a white church wedding and flowers in spring.

Outside, Sherlock escorted Molly to the table from the night they first met and smiled as she remained standing.

"Your family is charming, Sherlock."

"I must apologize for my mother's questions," Sherlock began with a reluctant glance away.

"No, there is no need," she interrupted, placing her hands on his chest. "I don't blame her for asking about my job or our future, especially in these times."

"Still," he began, lowly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I hope you were not put off by them."

She shook her head, shivering as his light touch burned her skin. "No," she breathed out.

His fingers traced the curve of her jaw to the tip of her chin. His pupils dilated as her mouth opened with his thumb tracing her bottom lip. Her chest rose and fell with each panted breath and she could see his own doing the same.

A simple action generating such an intense reaction. Interesting, he thought.

His head bent a fraction, brushing his lips tenderly across her forehead, trailing them down her temples with his nose copying the action. He moved across her chin with each touch of his lips, she melted with her hands caressing his chest. He trailed up the other side of her face stopping between her brows and tenderly kissed the path leading to the tip of her nose. She inhaled deeply and waited with his breath caressing her aching lips.

She wanted him to move just an inch more. She wanted a kiss. She ached for it. Her eyes, closed during his adventure, opened with pleasure lighting her irises. She saw his eyes lighting the same way and a smile, lifting the corner of his mouth as he searched her eyes.

The air crackled between them and his hand tightened, carefully, around the base of her throat and his lips descended on hers.

They moaned in unison, opening their mouths with a passion that shook them. His mouth pushed into hers, opening it further with desire, passion, and longing filling them both. Her hands clutched his shirt and her body tilted to the side, pressing deeper into his embrace. If one were to come across them in the garden, they would believe it was one person not two.

Molly's body shook with pleasure. Her left hand trailed up his chest, brushed up his throat, and landed at the base of his hairline. Her fingers pushed through the curls, neatly combed, secretly loving the softness of his hair.

His moan sounded in her ears and vibrated down her throat making her moan in return. Before she could push back or suggest it for lack of air, he moved his lips from hers and trailed down her throat. Her skin was soft and sang to him as he opened his mouth where her neck met her shoulder.

She moaned, biting her bottom lip, arching closer to him, holding his head where the pleasure weakened her.

Sherlock hummed, kissing her throat as he made his way up once more, touching her lips before lifting his head to watch her passion-filled eyes flutter open.

She gasped, panting, blinking a few more times to focus on him. "Oh, my," she whispered, breathlessly.

He licked his lips, unbelieving this was happening. "I'm sure we could find better words, Molly Hooper."

She blushed before burying her face in his chest. "Oh," she groaned, feeling his hands caressing her back.

He chuckled, touching his lips to the top of her head. "Mother may be on the right track."

Her head raised with a slight jerk. Her eyes widened. "Sherlock?"

He smiled, tenderly, lifting his hand to caress her perfect skin, brushing his pointer finger over her button nose. "I will not ask that we do before I leave, but I will ask this," he began, knowing in his heart he was on the right track.

"Ask what?" she asked, waiting with breathless anticipation.

"Will you consent to be my wife when I return?"

She gasped, tears beginning to blind her vision. With a leap, she landed into his arms. Her face buried in his throat, loving the solid feel of his arm around her.

"As much as I would love to interpret this as a yes, I would love to hear the words," he remarked, happily.

She brushed her lips over his cheek before resting them beside his ear. "I would love to be your wife, Sherlock Holmes."

He laughed, swinging her around in the small gazebo where they first fell in love. She laughed with him, throwing her head back as her hair flew behind her.

On a sunny day, the future looked bright and full of hope.

**~XXX~**

He walked her home later in the afternoon and paused just outside her door. She bowed her head, biting her bottom lips. "Mother was excited."

She laughed, holding his hands in hers. "Yes, I would say she was." She focused on the perfect twining of their hands and recalled the excitement of Sherlock's parents at the news of the pending nuptials. His mother hugged her so tightly she could scarcely breathe in her arms. She tuned out the plans Mrs. Holmes discussed, focusing instead on Sherlock and the look of joy and pleasure in his eyes. It had been a joyous moment.

He freed one of his hands and cupped her chin, raising her face to his. "I know it is a lot to take in. I can scarcely believe that it is happening, but I meant every word in the garden."

"I know you did, and I meant every word as well."

"Mother and father will look after you while I'm away, but I must ask that you look after them."

She smiled. "You do not even have to ask. They are my family now, as you are."

He breathed out, blinking, taking in her words. "You are my family."

She blushed, attempting to lower her eyes, but his gaze sharpened, keeping her from budging. He was her family. She loved him with everything she had, more than she ever thought possible. How could she ever say goodbye? The thought saddened her and dimmed the light in her eyes.

Sensing the problem, Sherlock caressed her cheek with his eyes mirroring her sadness. "I hate to leave you. The thought of parting from you tears at me."

She gasped, holding back the tears. "Oh, Sherlock," she whimpered, falling into his arms with her arms surrounding his neck, her toes aching, but she didn't care.

"I hate to see you in pain."

She sniffed, tightening her hold. "Then that should be an incentive to return to me."

"I shall endeavor to return to your loving arms, Molly."

She laughed through her tears. "I never imagined Sherlock Holmes to be such a romantic."

He chuckled, drew back to search her eyes. "Well, don't tell anyone. You are the only one who knows."

She nodded, enthusiastically with a giggle. "Your secret is safe with me."

"Oh, before I forget, mother gave this to me before I left," he began, searching in his pants pocket and lifted something out. He smiled, caressing her left hand in his. He held her eyes as he slipped an object on her third finger.

Her eyes dragged down and she gasped at the simple elegant diamond ring resting on her hand. It was square cut with two smaller diamonds on either side. It was white gold and the setting was perfect against it. "Sherlock," she whispered, raising her tear-filled eyes. "It's beautiful."

He smiled. "The diamonds belonged to a ring my great-grandfather gave my great-grandmother. The band shattered, so mother placed it in a new setting, hoping either Mycroft or I would use it," he explained. "She had two made, but this one suited you best."

She blushed, loving how well he knew her. "It's simple, elegant," she described with emotion. "It's perfect."

"And it will not interfere in your work," he added with a proud expression.

She giggled. "You know me so well."

"I like to think so."

"Oh, Sherlock," she whispered, touching his cheek with her right hand. "I'm turning into an emotional person."

"Oh, no, you just seem to be a woman in love," he remarked, pausing with the last word.

In all the days they spent together, they never once mentioned love. They felt it. Sensed it. They knew it in their hearts what they had was love, but they never spoke it. Expressed it, yes, but never said it.

Her face brightened. "I am," she revealed, stroking his cheek.

He blushed at the emotion in her eyes. Strong emotion was very similar to hers. Raising her left hand to his lips, he kissed the knuckle where the ring rested. "I've never said the words."

She pressed closer, placing her hand over their joined hands. "You don't have to, but I would like to hear them when you return to me."

He smiled, placing his other hand over hers. "It's a promise."

"It better be."

He chuckled, leaning forward and in the small enclave of her front door, he kissed the woman who owned his heart.

**~XXX~**

The day came harder than Molly and Sherlock would have liked it to be. He held her hand, threaded through his arm as they stood on the platform of the train station.

His family waited beside them and his mother was trying hard not to burst into tears, but failing miserably. Molly sympathized. It was taking all of her to keep it together. She lowered her eyes when Sherlock detached from her and clasped his father's arm, hugging him close.

"Take care of yourself, Sherlock," Mr. Holmes requested.

Sherlock nodded. "I will, father." He backed up, turning to his brother. "Mycroft," he began, holding out his hand.

Mycroft lifted his chin and clasped his brother's hand. "Well, brother mine," he countered. "Do try not to get killed."

"Well, I would hate to leave you behind thinking you are smarter than I," Sherlock returned, smiling.

Mycroft scoffed. "I am smarter."

"Well then, I'll have to return to best you once again."

"See that you do," his brother stated, lightly. Stepping closer, he pulled Sherlock closer in a brotherly embrace. "Do take care."

"Why, brother, one would think you care?" Sherlock whispered though he knew the truth.

"I do," Mycroft whispered, carefully.

Sherlock separated from his brother and smiled. "Take care of her," he uttered, solemnly.

"Certainly, she is my sister," Mycroft promised with a wink.

Sherlock nodded and faced his mother, who was whimpering uncontrollably. "Now, mother, I'll return."

"Oh, Sherlock," Mrs. Holmes cried, falling into her youngest son's arms. "I will pray for your safe return."

"I will come back." He drew back, just enough to kiss his mother's cheek, tenderly and sighed. His mother's tears were breaking his heart. As his father wrapped his arms around her, Sherlock faced Molly.

Heartbreak and love shone through her brown eyes and his heart ached to remove the heartbreak. Opening his arms, she ran into them with a cry. He lifted her, burying his face in her neck. For the rest of his life, he would never forget the feel of Molly Hooper in his arms. The sound of her laugh. The feel of her lips on his skin. The feel of her fingers through his hair.

Resting her back on the ground, he brushed her tears away from her face, tenderly. "I will come back to you," he vowed, holding her eyes with a force that shook her.

"You better," she returned, resting her hands on his chest.

"I will," he stated, smiling with a quirk of his brow. "I have a promise to keep and a wedding to attend."

She blushed as she laughed. "Sherlock," she breathed, thickly.

He raised her left hand to his lips and kissed her knuckle, brushing his thumb over the ring. "Molly." His voice was smoky and seductive. She shivered, leaning closer to him in a hug, wanting to keep his arms around her for the rest of her life.

The war be damned. She needed him.

"ALL ABOARD!"

She tensed in his arms, refusing to release him. "I don't want to let you go."

"I don't want to let you go, either, but we must." He slowly released her, searching her eyes as she stepped back, holding her hands with each step until he let them go. He bent and lifted his bag. He boarded the train, stopping at the steps and turned to gaze at his family once again.

Molly, holding back the tears and being held by Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, wrenched away, pushed through the crowd, and ran towards him. He stepped on the last step and lifted her in his arms as their lips melted together in a passionate battle of love.

The train jerked, and Sherlock released her with a sorrowful expression on his face. "Be safe, Molly Hooper."

She whimpered, stepping back onto the platform. "Be safe, Sherlock Holmes."

He opened his mouth, wanting to say the words in his heart, but they refused to form. Holding her eyes, as the train lurched forward, he saw her smile and he knew.

He knew she understood and she returned his love.

As the train rolled out of sight, Molly's heart broke. Arms surrounded her before she nearly collapsed on the platform. She leaned into Mrs. Holmes's side and wept.

* * *

**Please be kind!**

**I don't think I received reviews for the last chapter, but that's okay. I hope you all still enjoy it! This story is almost finished. With two more chapters left!**

**I hope I didn't break your hearts with this chapter, but you should know I cried while writing it. It was meant to be finished earlier, but the tears prevented me from writing as quickly.**

**I hope y'all enjoyed it!**

**Next Chapter: Letters and the Longest Night (This means this chapter will be the longest. I hope you don't mind.)  
**

**Until Next Time...**


	4. Letters and The Longest Night

**THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR CONTINUED SUPPORT! IT MEANS ALOT!**

**Please remember to review at the end! :)**

* * *

_December 1940_

_Dearest Molly,_

_The war drags on. A never-ending battle. One which I hope would end with each passing day. Not only to return to you but to stop seeing the death and horror of war. The only comfort I have is seeing your face. Although, John is with me. Yes, he is stationed with me. Surprisingly, he is the medic of our unit. At least I have some remembrance of home._

_I wish if I believed in such things, that I could be there with you. You, Ms. Hooper, are the only bright spot in this bloody war. Knowing you are waiting for me, gives me the courage to fight onward. To stay alive. It is not much, but I hope it is enough to keep your spirits up. I shall see you soon._

_Yours,_

_Sherlock_

**~XXX~**

Molly held the letter close to her heart. The words conveyed the sadness and burned her even more than she ever thought possible.

For almost three months he was gone from her sight. Gone from her touch, but never far from her thoughts. A month since their week-long romance. A romance that still burned in the depths of her soul.

She knew without even speaking to others how rare it was for two people to fall in love in just under a week, but Sherlock was not ordinary. He was special. In every moment of each day and night, if he was able, he spent it with her.

She carried the memories of their time together in her soul. A part of her relishing them, reliving them at night and during the day when she could spare a moment between patients. They comforted her in ways no other could reach.

Her heart ached for the sight of his beloved face. His multi-colored eyes burning into her soul. His tender touch, like a feather, brushing over her skin, sending shivers down her spine. His deep voice, so distinguished and masculine, shaking her, warming her. His lips. Oh, she missed those lips and the kisses they gave. Experienced. Seductive. A perfect fit to her own.

Molly leaned back in her small sofa with her eyes closed, imagining him sitting beside her. Holding her hand. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, enveloping her into his side. She missed him. Ached for him.

He, Sherlock Holmes, understood her better than anyone she ever met. He supported her work. Reveled in the thought of having an ally in the hospital.

She laughed at the idea. Sherlock mentioned his experiments and the lack of subjects. She rolled her eyes in memory.

"_I absolutely despise how I have to beg or barter for specimens when there is no other use for them in the hospital."_

"_Perhaps," she began, watching him pace inside her flat one afternoon. "Because they used to belong to people, Sherlock."_

_He scoffed. "The dead have no use for them, Molly."_

_She rolled her eyes and stood from the sofa. "I know that, but understand Mike's position. If he was to acquiesce, the hospital would have a lawsuit filed against them."_

"_What is the purpose of a lawsuit when I just want a few organs to experiment?" he asked, glaring. "It does not even have to be from those who have kin. They can be from the unclaimed or others."_

_She placed her hands on his chest. "Would it help if I assisted you?"_

_His eyes narrowed and then sparkled with delight and pleasure. "Will that not endanger your job?"_

_She laughed. "Part of my job is assisting with the remains," she explained with joy. "I conduct a few of my own experiments on those who have passed."_

"_Oh, do tell," he commanded, lightly, intrigued at the side of Molly he had yet to see._

"_I have many jobs in the hospital, but some of them require I work on the dead. I enjoy working on the dead because I am my boss at times," she explained, caressing his chest. "If you would like, I could save a few specimens for you."_

"_Molly," Sherlock began, his eyes sparkling._

_She smiled, brightly. "It would be no problem for me, as they leave me alone in the morgue." She stroked his face. "My experiments are to determine how the person died and how-to combatant it for future reference."_

"_Interesting," he uttered, taking her hands and leading her to the sofa. "Tell me more."_

Molly laughed with the memory of how the night ended. Before he returned home, she had promised to set aside specimens for him when she could and he learned more of her experiments on the dead.

Through her experiments, she determined effective treatments for several patients in the hospital wing. Those several recovered from their illnesses rather quickly. The speed of their recovery was applauded by Dr. Mike Sanford, her boss, and garnered a good deal of respect from several other doctors on the floor.

It was a victory for Molly Hooper, who worked hard for their respect. Soon, her internship would be completed and she would be a full-fledged doctor. A fact which brightened her world, but not so much as knowing there was a man who loved her as she was, who was not threatened by her work.

Sherlock accepted her.

Standing, she approached the window. Night had fallen and fear gripped her. The night was the worst. For the past few weeks, bombs from air raids by the Germans fell on the city. Bomb shelters were erected throughout the city and, if you could get there, the tubes were particularly safe from the bombings.

Molly feared the city would be destroyed if any more bombings dropped from the sky.

Agreements or no, she did not trust the Luftwaffe to keep their word and maintain their bombs on the outskirts.

London was too easy to hit. Granted with the advanced radar system, the British were able to determine when the planes were close, but still, there were disadvantages. For one, the radar system could not pinpoint where the bombs were to be dropped.

Mycroft, with his connections, informed her how unlikely it would be for the Luftwaffe to attack certain areas of London.

Molly wanted to believe him, but her heart could not hold back the fear. This was one of the times she wished Sherlock was here.

In his arms, she could find solace. She could find strength and comfort. She would feel safe. It was not too much to ask. She knew this.

Her legs carried her to the garden in the back of her flat. Her arms, covered by a small cardigan, folded the material closer to her body as the cool air drifted through, touching her skin, chilling her. Her eyes drifted to the sky and she wondered if Sherlock was gazing at the same night sky or if it was blocked by the fire and smoke from the front lines.

"Please protect him," she prayed in the darkness. "Bring him back to me."

**~XXX~**

Dust covered his body as he hunched over in the foxhole. He cursed, lowly, raising his head only to find John's frustrated face glaring back.

"We've barely made one klick in the past two weeks!" John shouted over the explosions.

"This is asinine!" Sherlock returned, growling as another bomb went off close to their position. "We need to push harder."

"How can we?" John asked, shaking his head. "The ammo is low. Our supplies have been cut off, and we haven't been able to reach headquarters through the radio."

"Medic!"

John groaned and rushed past Sherlock towards the man who was calling for help.

Sherlock leaned against the wall of the foxhole. His eyes closed in frustration. Help needed to come soon. "Mycroft," he whispered, knowing his brother would take of it all if he knew. Letters were too infrequent.

That worried him. He wanted news from home. It had been weeks since the last letter and though he knew how dramatic the raids were hitting London, he knew she was safe.

But the last contact was weeks ago. He pushed the helmet back and wiped his face. She had to be safe. She had to be. There was no other object in his mind but seeing to her safety.

Mycroft would take of her. He promised.

Sherlock sank to the ground, uncaring of the mud soaking his fatigues and boots. Thoughts of Molly kept him pushing onward. He promised to make it back to her.

He had to make it back. He wanted to marry her. He wanted to spend the rest of his life by her side.

Strange how he never thought of marriage before, until now. Until her.

His mother informed him how one woman can change the mind of the most stubborn man in the world. He smiled as he thought of her. Molly changed his mind in a way he never expected. She changed his outlook forever.

He wanted forever with her. He wanted to go to sleep with her in his arms and wake up with a smile because she was his.

His eyes raised to the darkened sky and inhaled deeply, wondering if she was seeing the same night sky. Somehow, someway, he knew she was.

That gave him hope.

**~XXX~**

"Dear, how are you fairing?"

Molly accepted the teacup from Mrs. Holmes and nodded. "As well as I can be."

"Myc has told me only a little of Sherlock's position," Mrs. Holmes continued, shaking her head. "He did say they managed to send supplies to his unit."

Molly smiled, grateful for the information. Sherlock's last letter informed her of the lack of supplies. She, in turn, criticized Mycroft for the lack of supplies. He must have listened for the supplies arrived. "Did he say anything else?"

Mrs. Holmes shook her head. "No, only that Sherlock was still safe," she answered, sighing. "I wish this war would end. I want my son home." She raised her eyes and smiled, tenderly at Molly. "I am sure you want him home as well."

Molly fingered the ring, which she never removed, on her finger. "I do."

"Who knows how long this war will last?" Mrs. Holmes stated with a slight question in her tone.

"I don't know, but I hope soon."

Mrs. Holmes observed the young woman in front of her and smiled. "I'm sure my son feels the same way."

Molly blushed, keeping her head bowed. "I'm sure."

"Molly, I have a request, if you don't mind."

"Of course not," Molly returned, shaking her head. "What is it?"

"I know, you no longer have your parents," Mrs. Holmes began, carefully. "But I was wondering if you would allow me to help you plan the wedding?"

"Oh, of course, Mrs. Holmes," Molly responded, grasping the older woman's hands on the table. "I would be honored."

The older woman smiled and gracefully rose from her seat. "There is something I would like to show you if you would please."

Molly nodded, following the woman out of the room and up the stairs. Her breath caught when they entered the attic and Mrs. Holmes opened a cupboard to reveal a simple, yet elegant white dress.

"Oh, my," Molly gasped, stepping closer.

"I would like you to wear this. I had intended it for my daughter, but Eurus…" Mrs. Holmes trailed off, sadly.

Molly, knowing the circumstance of Sherlock's insane sister, placed her hand on Mrs. Holmes' arm. "I understand and I would be honored to wear it." She stepped closer to the dress. "It's beautiful."

"Would you like to try it on? I believe we were the same size. If not, we can have it altered. I am not incompetent in the womanly things as Sherlock and Mycroft believe."

Molly laughed and nodded. "I would love to."

The dress fit perfectly. The lace neckline was exquisite with pearls lining the collar, just above her breasts. Down the bodice, pearls were delicately placed in soft waves. The sheer material felt wonderful against her skin. It was a slight A-line fit with a flare at her hips, falling gracefully to the floor just passed her feet. Heels were going to be required.

She touched the delicate sleeves, only mid-length of her upper arms and she smiled as the dress clung to her body in perfection which showed every curve of her trim waist.

"Oh, my dear, Sherlock is going to love it."

Molly smiled with tears in her eyes. "I think he will too."

**~XXX~**

**May 1941**

Sherlock wandered through the tents and cursed the rain as it fell around the encampment. The lines had been successful in pushing the German army back, but for how long was anyone's guess.

He listened to the sound of mail being distributed and his heart leaped in his chest. Perhaps he would hear a word from home.

It had been months since Molly told him of her decision to wear his mother's wedding dress. He accepted with a smile, remembering the dress in the attic. Already imagining Molly in it made him envy home even more.

She would be ravishing in the dress. He smiled at the vision in his mind palace. Every move of her body. Every curve. Every flicker of her eyes. Everything about her flashed through his mind's eye. He couldn't breathe with each image.

"Captain?"

Sherlock jerked his eyes open and accepted the letter. Not wanting to wait another moment, he discreetly excused himself from the others and went to his tent.

Sitting on his cot, he opened the letter with a smile.

_My Darling Sherlock,_

_How I hate this war! I long for it to end so you can return to me. How I miss you. I miss the walks we took to the park. The dance in the garden. Every memory makes me miss you more and more._

_I spend most of the time with your family, or our family, which you know. I fall more in love with them each day. Your mother has taken over the wedding plans. I don't mind because all I care about is becoming your wife. I don't care for the frills and such. Just knowing I am going to spend the rest of my life with you is enough._

_I am now a full doctor as I have finished my internship. Mike offered me a full position and I've accepted. During these times, they need all the help they can receive. The bombings from the Luftwaffe have crippled so many people. The hospitals are nearly overrun. I know what you probably thinking, Sherlock. I am fine._

_I am fine. I have been pacing myself and when the sirens blare, I seek shelter, immediately._

_I do wish this madness would end. Not only do I want to sleep nights, but I want you. I need you, Sherlock._

_How strange to need someone as much as I need you._

_Yours forever,_

_Molly_

Sherlock clutched the letter and bent his head. For the moment, she was safe. But for how long?

He groaned, reading, and re-reading the letter in his hands. The bombings. He heard from Mycroft's intel, the bombs were not close to the heart of London, assuring him that Molly and his family were safe.

If anything, …

He shuddered. He couldn't think about it. He couldn't dare. If he allowed himself to think about the dangers, he would not be any good to the men in his unit. He couldn't afford it.

"Captain."

Sherlock frowned, glancing up. "Yes?"

"You have a telegram."

Sherlock stood and rushed to the main tent. Taking the message from the private, he read over it. "No," he whispered in disbelief. "Is this accurate?"

The telegraph operator nodded, solemnly. "I'm afraid so, sir."

He turned and grasped another private by the arm. "Find Dr. Watson."

"Yes, sir."

Sherlock bent with the determination lining his face. "I need you to send another telegraph to London. To Mycroft Holmes."

"Yes, sir."

**~XXX~**

Molly shrank in her seat as the news hit her with a hard knock. Her eyes widened. "Are you sure?" she asked in a low breath.

Mycroft nodded, despairingly. "Intelligence suggests the attack will come tonight."

"Sherlock?"

"He was the one who sent the message. Somehow, they sent it to him first and he relayed the message to me."

She smiled, but it wasn't wholehearted. "What can we do?"

"Nothing, but seek shelter. I have mother and father out in the country. Mary is joining them, per Sherlock's request for John, and we will need to go soon."

"I can't leave the hospital. All these patients…" she trailed off.

"Molly, I promised Sherlock I would protect you. I do not make promises lightly."

"I understand that, but my place is here. I cannot leave them."

Mycroft groaned, studying the woman in front of him. She was strong, stubborn, and everything that Sherlock is. No wonder his little brother loved her as he did. "Then at least get them into another shelter."

"There is not one big enough," she argued, lowering her eyes. "Where can we go?"

Mycroft sighed. "There are two shelters close by which could be used. I can arrange to have the patients moved there."

Molly sighed. "Will we have enough time?"

"Just enough."

Molly nodded. "Alright, let's go."

**~XXX~**

It began on the 10th of May. Molly, fearing for the lives of her patients, helped them in the tubes below London.

As the bombs dropped through the night, she feared how much more London could take. Sleep was non-existent.

She couldn't sleep. She refused to sleep because if she slept then something would happen.

Each drop of the bombs shook the tunnels. The patients and some Londoners clamored together, trying to remain calm, but all the time they feared the bombs would breakthrough.

Molly, holding onto to whatever faith and nerve she could muster, closed her eyes, and envisioned Sherlock.

She had to survive. She had to.

**~XXX~**

Fires burned through London's streets.

Panic filled the air. It was so thick he could almost taste it.

Arriving in London with John at his side, Sherlock surveyed the damage from the back of the truck. Panic filled his chest.

"We'll find them, Sherlock," John remarked, touching his friend's arm.

Sherlock nodded. It had taken everything in him not to disobey orders and chargeback home. His family had been secured in the country. Except her.

Molly, Mary, and Mycroft remained in London.

He swore under his breath. Of all the times for Molly to disobey orders, but then didn't he threaten to?

If not for his brother's connections, he would have been discharged from service or thrown in prison.

He swore to return to the front lines in a week. Long enough to find her.

Arriving at St. Bart's hospital, or what was left of it, panic seized him. "Molly!" he shouted, wanting to rush into the flames.

John held him back, swearing under his breath. "You can't go in there, Sherlock."

"She might be in there!" Sherlock yelled, struggling in his friend's arms.

John struggled, holding him with every ounce of strength he could muster. "It's too dangerous. Besides, you know Molly would try to find a place to hide. Wouldn't she?"

Sherlock breathed, but his body tensed. "Oh, God!"

John held his friend as the building began to collapse in front of them. "She got out, Sherlock. She got out."

Sherlock shrugged John's arms off him and collapsed on the ground. "Where is she, John? Where?!"

John knelt beside him, wishing he hand answers. He needed answers to give. Mary was somewhere too. He needed to find her, but he knew Mary was resilient. She could survive. His friend, hurting, needed strength. He needed Molly. "We'll find her."

Sherlock rocked on the ground. The pain in his chest growing with every moment. He could hear the fire blazing. The crackling of the building. The smell of the chemicals from inside. All of it combined related a gruesome thought. What if she didn't make it out?

His name drifted through the flames, and he wept. He hated the sound. It was nothing more than a taunting. A ploy by the devil himself to tease him.

He as too late. He couldn't save her. He couldn't. He lost her.

"Sherlock?!"

There it was again. He raised his eyes, staring at the flames. He would never forget her voice.

"Sherlock Holmes!"

He tensed and rolled on the ground, finding a miracle standing a few feet from him. "Molly?" he whispered in disbelief.

Molly, covered in dirt and debris, shaking under her brown colored lab coat, laughed. "Sherlock!" She staggered forward, not caring about John and Mary's passionate reunion. Her entire being was focused on reaching him. "Oh, Sherlock!"

He jostled to his feet and rushed toward her. "Oh, my Molly." He opened his arms and in a single moment, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly in his arms. "Oh, Molly."

She breathed him in, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Sherlock, you're here."

He nodded, bending his head to capture her eyes with his tear-stricken eyes. "I couldn't stand by when I knew this attack was going to take place. I had to get to you."

She sobbed, placing her hands on his face. "What about your duty?"

"I have to return in a week, but I don't care."

She smiled through the dirt-covered face and pulled his head down. "Oh, Sherlock."

He breathed in and out, resisting only a fraction. "Molly," he began, touching her face with a tender brush of his fingers. "I…I love you."

She caught her breath and tears fell down her face. Without a single word, she pulled him completely down and captured his lips with hers. Her mouth opened, passionately, accepting him. She separated for a moment and smiled against his lips.

"I love you too."

He chuckled and amid the chaos around them, he kissed her once more. Sealing their love in the ruins of London.

* * *

**Please be kind!**

**May 10th-11th, 1941 was known as The Longest Night in London because it was the night when the German air force dropped bombs in the inner parts of the city. It was, technically the last day of the Blitz. Despite December 29, 1940, which caused the Second London fire, The Longest Night ended up being the deadliest days during the Blitz.**

**The next chapter will be the last! This chapter is the longest of this story because there was so much I wanted to put into it. I hope you enjoyed it.**

**Next Chapter: End of the War**

**Until Next Time...**


	5. Home

**THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR CONTINUED SUPPORT! IT MEANS SO MUCH!**

**Please remember to review at the end! :)**

* * *

**1945- Four Years Later**

It was over. Finally over.

Molly breathed a sigh of relief as the flags flew brightly over London and the people danced in the streets.

She laughed at the children, some of who she knew, came and hugged her, brightly.

So much damage had been done thanks to the war, so many lives taken.

But they would endure. They were British. They would hold their heads high and carry on.

Carry on.

Words, which carried so much meaning for her. And for Sherlock.

Since the dreadful night, nearly four years prior, their bond grew so strong, they felt as if they were never apart. He returned to his command a week later and the letters, though infrequent, still came to her door.

He took leave when he could and through the years, she saw him a total of four times. But those four times were meaningful and they never wasted them. He only had a week to spend, but they made the week count.

They discussed their wedding and where they would reside once the war was over. She smiled, fingering the ring on her finger. So many plans. So many hopes. So much love between them. She didn't have to worry. He was going to be there. He was coming home.

Mycroft informed her of the day Sherlock would be arriving, and she could hardly wait. Since his last visit home, she wanted nothing more. She wanted his arms. His presence. She just wanted him. Nothing else mattered. Nothing should. Her love was all she needed. He survived the war. Although a simple scar on his cheek now meant nothing but bravery.

She remembered touching the bandaged face when he came home for the third time. She cried at the thought he could have died in the trenches. He only hugged her, caressed her, kissed her, and told her without saying a word that she kept him going. He fought to return to her because he wanted a life with her. He needed the life with her.

The last time he came home, the scar on his face had faded, but the war-weary expression in her eyes told her so much. How could so much pain and suffering be endured by so many? How could they overcome it? She had only wrapped her arms around him and expressed her love in the only way she could.

It was that trip home in which Mary and John married. She stood as maid of honor and Sherlock was the best man. Each dreamt of the day they would be standing at the altar. The wedding was rushed because John could not wait another moment. He was on medical leave for an injury on his shoulder but was due back after a month. It was enough for Mary and John to decide they wanted to marry. So they did, with only a month two-week honeymoon.

Molly had been envious, but one glance into Sherlock's eyes told her they would soon be sharing the vows.

She brushed her hair, touched up her makeup, and stood back to gaze at her reflection in the mirror. After the last bombing, Molly moved into the Holmes' family residence. Her own had been one of the casualties of war, which saddened her, but the bright spot was the closeness of Sherlock's parents, who returned from the country a year prior.

She opened the door from her room at a third knock and smiled at a very pregnant Mary.

"Are you ready?"

Molly smiled. "Yes," she breathed.

Mary laughed and looped her arm around Molly's. "I imagine it would be a grand celebration for weeks."

Molly nodded. "I wouldn't mind."

"Nor I," Mary agreed with a sigh. "Anything to have my John back."

_And my Sherlock._ Molly thought.

"Mrs. Holmes is literally dancing in the sitting room."

Molly laughed. "She's been like that since the news broke. All she can think about is her son coming home."

"And you thinking of him too."

"The only thing that worries me," Molly began, pausing just as they reached the bottom step. "Is what if he's changed? No one really comes home from war. After what he's seen, could he still be the same man?"

Mary nodded, solemnly. "I know. I think the same about John, but the only thing we can do is love them and hope for the best."

"I do love him, Mary, with all my heart and soul."

"Then shower him with it. I shall do the same with John."

Molly squeezed her friend's hand and they continued on.

The train platform was crowded as hundreds of people gathered to greet their loved ones returning. Molly grasped the hands of Mary and Mrs. Holmes, tightly. Her feet bouncing as she tried to see above the heads of so many. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears and her nerves shook inside her. Her eyes tried to focus on the train in the distance, but it was pointless.

"I can't see," Mrs. Holmes remarked, glancing at her husband. "Is it coming?"

"Yes, my love, it is," Mr. Holmes answered, standing a few inches taller than the women.

Mycroft cleared his throat. "It should be here soon."

Molly licked her lips. The lipstick she had applied earlier was almost gone from the action, but she didn't care. She imagined it would be removed anyway when Sherlock was in her arms.

She blushed at the thought. There were many times she imagined the scene, now she wondered how it really would play out.

The train halted and the people held their breaths. Smoke from the exhaust covered the platform, covering the visions, but the expectation was more than they could bear. One by one the soldiers exited the cars and people began to scream and laugh as they wrapped their arms around their loved ones.

Joy and laughter rang across the platform, but for the Holmes family laughter had not come. Not yet. As the families trickled off the platform, Molly scoured the cars. Surely this was the right car. Surely Mycroft was not mistaken.

She swallowed, as the platform emptied, but Mary's intake snapped her attention to the farthest car.

"John!" Mary bellowed, running as fast as she could in her condition. John ran to her, scooping her up in his arms, and held her as close as he dared with Mary raining kisses over his face.

Molly separated from the family and slowly walked towards them, passing them as smoke covered her line of sight. She tensed, waiting, finally gasping as a lean figure took shape in the distance. "Sherlock," she whispered, staggering only slightly, wanting to run, but her legs melted like jelly.

He drew closer and closer until the obstruction of the steam revealed his eyes. He breathed her name and dropped the bag from his hand and opened his arm, reaching her halfway. His arms engulfed her and lifted her from the ground. "My Molly," he cried, burying his face in her throat.

"My Sherlock," she returned, holding him tightly. "I thought…when I didn't see…"

"John and I wanted to wait until the crowd died down. I apologize for taking so long."

She laughed through tears. "It's alright. You're here now. That's all that matters. You're here," she wept, her voice trembling.

He tightened his hold, careful not to hurt her, though she would not have cared. She missed him and it showed with each tremble of her body. He nuzzled her face, finding her lips and caressed them with a mild hunger that shook them both with passion and love.

Setting her on her feet, he grasped her left hand. Smiling, the tiniest smile, he raised it to his lips and kissed her knuckle. "Still?"

She smiled, brightly. "Always."

He groaned and pulled her into his arms. Oh, how right did she feel in his arms. Soft and warm. Everything he ever wanted or needed was here in the form of Molly Hooper.

"You will have eternity to reunite, brother mine. Mother is about to have a panic attack."

Sherlock grunted, holding onto Molly for a brief moment before shaking his brother's hand. "Mycroft."

"Sherlock," Mycroft returned with a slight smile.

Sherlock moved to his parents and wrapped them both in his arms, listening to his mother's cries of thanks for his return. He sighed in relief, grateful to be with his family, and glanced to the side at the woman he loved more than anything. With a smile in her direction, he knew he was truly home.

**~XXX~**

Molly fidgeted in the street, glancing over her shoulder with every possible moment. Where was he?

Since his return, Sherlock and Molly were inseparable, except today when he informed her of his and John's partnership. They would both be consulting with the police on cases, as before, but they needed to be sure the police would be willing to accept them once more. There was no doubt in Molly's mind the police would, but still, she hated to be separated from Sherlock.

The wedding was only a few days away and her wedding present was sitting beside her if only he would hurry up and arrive.

Hands rested on her shoulders and she relaxed with a soft moan before turning and smiling up at him. "You're late."

He chuckled, rubbing his hands over her shoulders. "The meeting took a bit longer than I would have liked."

"Are you consulting again?"

He hummed. "They couldn't say yes fast enough."

She laughed, placing her hands on his chest. "I'm sure."

"What did you want me to see?"

"I…uh…have a surprise for you. Sort of a wedding present from me."

His brows lifted. "Oh?"

She licked her lips. "I know I should have waited to consult with you about this, but…" she trailed off, her eyes shifting with nervous excitement.

"Molly."

"Come with me." She pulled on his hand and knocked on the door which read 221B. The door opened and Sherlock smiled at the kindly woman on the other end.

"Oh, dear, you've brought him," Mrs. Hudson exclaimed with a smile.

Molly nodded. "Yes, may we?"

Mrs. Hudson nodded, motioning them into the home. "You know the way, dear."

"Good to see you again, Mrs. Hudson."

"And you as well, Sherlock," Mrs. Hudson stated, hugging him, briefly.

Molly smiled and waited until Sherlock followed her up the stairs. "I've been talking with Mrs. Hudson for the past few years and after your last leave I made a deal with her."

"A deal?"

Molly nodded, opening the door and Sherlock's eyes widened as the flat was furnished with furniture from home mixed with Molly's. He observed everything, even the skull on the mantle and the homely touches.

"Molly," he whispered, turning back to her.

"Mycroft helped me set it up and your mother helped design, but I knew you would a place for your experiments and Mrs. Hudson said you could use the basement."

He closed the distance between them. "Molly."

She swallowed. "This is our home, or…or will be after we're married. If that's okay?"

His hands cupped her face, lightly stroking her cheeks with the tips of his thumbs. "You did this for me?"

She nodded, touching his face. "I wanted a place that would be ours and Mrs. Hudson was more than willing to help. She even made a comment about the children we will have." She blushed, lowering her eyes.

He smiled, crinkling the corners of his eyes. His gaze softened and she held her breath. "Our children?"

"I was not sure if you would want them."

"If they are with you, dear Molly, I would accept."

She giggled, leaping into his arms. Her lips brushed across his cheek, touching the barely visible scar. The love she felt poured out of her with each passing moment. "Three days seems so long."

He moaned, placing a kiss at the base of her throat. "Four years felt longer."

She tightened her hold. "It seems insane, doesn't it?"

"What does?" he asked in a low whisper.

"How we met, fell in love in a night, growing deeper in love with each passing year of the war, and now in just a few days we will be married."

"It is not insane, Molly Hooper," he remarked, raising his head to gaze into her eyes. "It is perfect and as it should be."

"How can you be sure?"

He smiled, tenderly, brushing her cheek with the back of his fingers. "Because you were the only thing which kept me alive for four years. You, Molly Hooper, were my angel on the battlefield. My home. You kept me fighting to get back. Without you, I would not have survived as I did. I would have held on to my humanity as I did."

She inhaled, tears burning her eyes, leaving streaks down her face. "Oh, Sherlock, I feel the same way."

"So, you see, it is not insane. Not with us," he added, holding her eyes with such love and tenderness the tears poured from her eyes. "And, by the way, I love the skull."

Her brow furrowed before her face lit up with a laugh, wrapping her arms around him in an embrace he gladly returned.

**~XXX~**

They were married in a quiet church service with only a few people in attendance.

Mary stood as Matron of Honor. John as Best Man. Mycroft was given the job of escorting Molly down the aisle. A job which he seemed pleased to perform, even if it was a little awkward for him, but he grew fond of his brother's paramour and thought of her as his little sister.

Sherlock's eyes melted her when she walked down the aisle in his mother's wedding dress. A dress which fit as he imagined it would. He smiled, a crinkly eye smile, and his back straightened.

Molly's legs wobbled and if not for Mycroft's steady, firm hold, she was sure she would have fallen to the floor.

She grasped Sherlock's hand and accepted Mycroft's tender kiss on the cheek before standing before the minister.

Her heart pounded loudly, blocking out the words, only focusing on Sherlock's tender, expressive gaze. She waited as he turned to face her and spoke the vows he wrote just for the occasion. Vows she never heard and never would forget.

"Molly Hooper, on this day, five years ago, we met at my farewell party. We met and did what I never dreamed possible. We fell in love." He paused, licking his lips, ignoring the gazes of family, focusing solely on her. "I never dreamed one night could change my view on love, but it did, because of you. I don't regret a single moment of it. I don't want to forget."

He shifted on his feet, holding her eyes. "You, Molly Hooper, changed my life by giving me one to live, to look forward to. I don't want to ever lose the gift you gave that night. You are my love, my heart, my soul, and my home. Forever."

She sniffed, wiping her face with her left hand before smiling. "Oh, Sherlock," she whispered, wetting her lips. Clearing her throat, she began. "Five years ago, I accepted an invitation to a party from a friend. I wasn't sure if I wanted to go, but with insistence, I went. I never knew that I would find the man I would love with all my being, but I did."

She raised her hand and caressed his face, despite protocol. "You, Sherlock Holmes, granted my every expectation that night and for five years, you kept me fighting. I knew I would never be alone again because you gave me the give of your love and your family. You are my best friend, my love, my heart, and my home. Always."

Mrs. Holmes covered her mouth to keep from sobbing, as did everyone in the church. As Sherlock slid the simple white gold band on her finger, he raised her hand, as he did when he slid the engagement ring and kissed her knuckle. She returned the gesture, kissing his hand where the wedding band now resided.

As they kissed, sealing their vows and love, everyone cheered.

Sherlock brushed his nose over Molly's and smiled as he led her down the aisle. "I hope you don't mind, but the celebration with the family will have to wait."

She laughed, knowing how much he hated parties. "I don't mind."

He laughed, accepting the door to the car. Driving in the direction of their home, Sherlock grasped her hand. "Home, Mrs. Holmes."

She smiled, kissing his knuckle with tender affection. "Home, Mr. Holmes."

**~XXX~**

She lay in his arms, hours later, savoring the aftermath of the most exhilarating moment of her life.

She recalled his fingers unbuttoning the wedding dress, lightly touching her naked back. Slowly, pushing the gown off her shoulders, kissing her skin as the dress fell into a puddle heap on the floor. She shivered with the memory of his lips and fingers dancing on her skin as he laid her on the bed and kissed her so passionately she forgot everything but him.

She traced his bare chest, remembering the feel of his skin as she pushed his shirt off his shoulders and allowed her hands to caress his perfect, chiseled features. His skin burned under her touch and she relished the taste of his skin.

Their joining was slow and perfect. Molly could not have imagined a better moment than Sherlock slowly becoming part of her with a tender expression on his face, passionate eyes, and loving touch.

He was hers, completely and she was his.

His hand moved over her bare side and she raised her eyes to meet his, slowly opening.

"I didn't mean to wake you."

He hummed, cupping her face with his hand. "I was not asleep."

She smiled, leaning up to capture his lips with hers. "Was I worth it?"

He chuckled, rolling them until she was underneath him once again, never breaking their kiss. "Completely."

She opened her mouth, returning his kiss with a passion that was slowly building once again. She moaned, threading her fingers through his hair. Tugging gently, he raised his head. She smiled through passion raised lips and her eyes focused on his dilated orbs. "Welcome home, Sherlock."

He smiled. "Welcome home, Molly."

She caressed his cheek. "I love you."

"And I love you," he whispered, enduringly. "Forever."

* * *

**Please be kind!**

**It's finished! I hope you enjoyed this story! I know I took a while to complete it, but I had a hard time saying goodbye.**

**This story is dear to me, and I hope you all enjoyed it! Thank you all for your kind support and words! It truly meant a lot!**

**I'll be updating my other Sherlolly story very soon, "Adventures of Holmes and Hooper," and then I will be uploading a new Sherlolly story, especially for the month of October, aka Halloween! The title is still in the works, but I'll let you guys know soon on my Tumblr and here. A preview will be added in the "Adventures of Holmes and Hooper" story, at least the final chapter. It's a ghost story of sorts, so I hope you guys will check it out when October rolls around!**

**Thanks again! Much Love to you all!**

**Stay safe!**

**Until Next Time...**


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